


Lionheart

by NCPanthersgurl



Category: Cullen - Fandom, Dragon Age: Inquisition, fem!inquisitor
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-28 05:59:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2721350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NCPanthersgurl/pseuds/NCPanthersgurl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just some fluffy head-cannon Cullen/fem!quisitor stuffs. Trying to stick to the cannon plot but definitely adding all the fluffs. Likely smut eventually. :P</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lionheart

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm going to keep the chapters fairly short so that if I post one every couple days I'll still keep well ahead of myself and *hopefully* actually finish this fic. XD

     It was cold... So cold. The storm swirled around her, pushed her off balance. Miria pressed on, praying to the Creators that she could find them.  
     By them she of course meant the Inquisition. Her friends. Cullen. After the attack on Haven she wasn't positive where anyone was, and she herself was stranded in a never ending swirl of white. Every few moments she would thaw herself with a small fistful of flame, but it didn't last long against the biting wind. She couldn't waste much strength on magic, either.  
     In the weeks prior she had become quite close with her advisers and companions, and the Inquisition had been growing steadily in number. The Inquisition was going to do great things; it was going to stop Corypheus and they needed her to do it. She focused these thoughts, pushing herself forward. There was a great grey mass several yards ahead but she hoped it would at least provide shelter from the wind. A pile of ashes lay on the ground mere steps ahead, and she ignited their remains to warm herself again.  
     "These are fresh enough... Are they close?" She murmured under her breath. The words froze on the wind and she doused the ashes, pressing forward again. It felt like she had been walking days instead of mere hours.  
     The grey structure appeared to be a rock formation, and as she drew closer Miria knew she had to stop and rest. Combat, cold, walking... Plus the drain of Corypheus trying to steal the anchor... She stepped into the formation, felt the wind cease at her sides, and everything went black.  
  
                                                                                                                       
  
     Commander Cullen paced anxiously around the camp, his eyes doing a never-ending sweep of the perimeter. Bull, Varric, and Cassandra had returned ages ago. Where was Miria? Had she survived? The thought made him uneasy. He could feel the others watching him, could hear the soldiers whispering about "the loss". He couldn't accept that. To admit that he'd allowed Miria to get close would be a weakness. They couldn't see that. The girl was shy, but intelligent and driven. She made him squirm and blush and smile and... Maker he'd forgotten he was really capable of all those things. She couldn't be lost. The Inquisition needed her.  
     "I'm going to walk the perimeter." He muttered lightly to Josephine, not even waiting for her slight nod of acknowledgement.  
     The camp was nestled inside some rocks outside Haven, or the remains of. Not ideal but enough for now. The snow and wind pushed at him but he circled, watching for any sign that Miria was alive. When a small silhouette appeared on the hill he almost missed it, but when it dropped to the ground he yelled behind him.  
     "Here! She's alive!"  
     He heard Cassandra yelling behind him, vaguely saw the other advisers running up the hill with stray soldiers. But she was there, in front of him. She was slumped in the snow, her skin a pale shade of blue and her bright red hair splayed in the snow around her. Her pulse was weak, her breath coming in tiny short puffs. Cullen rubbed her arms, tried to warm her. Her robes were thin, it was a wonder she'd made it at all.  
     Then there were hands. Scrambling to touch her, check her, lift her. Cullen grunted, annoyed, and shoved them back.  
     "I can carry her. Get some blankets, get her bedding near the fire, go."  
     He scooped her into his arms, snow falling from her limp form. She was slight, tiny even for an elf, and he had no trouble carrying her back to camp. The mark on her hand was pulsing angrily. Mother Giselle was waiting with blankets, directing Cullen to her bedding and shooing him away.  
     "She'll be fine Commander. Let me warm her."  
     Cullen nodded solemnly and stepped out, his thoughts anxious. The other advisers were bickering quietly to the side and he stepped over to intervene, soon finding himself caught up in the debate.  
  
                     
  
     "They've been at this for hours..." Miria groaned, her eyes falling to the startled Mother Giselle beside her.  
    "They have that luxury thanks to you... The enemy could not follow, and with time to doubt we turn to blame... in-fighting may threaten us just as much as Corypheus." She said softly. Miria looked up and nodded.  
    "Do we know where he went?"  
    "No. We aren't particularly certain where we are either."  
    "If they're planning, I should be helping." The elf began to stand but Mother Giselle planted a hand softly on her arm.  
    "Relax. Rest. You need it, and another heated voice will not help anything right now, even yours. Maybe especially yours."  
    Miria nodded, but stood all the same. She stretched her limbs, her neck; took stock of the mark, noting that it only lightly pulsed now. When she stepped from under her shelter the Advisers looked up, separating themselves with shamed expressions on their faces. The Commander looked almost relieved, but he did no more than nod at her. Miria surveyed the camp, watched the sullen faces and the anxious movements of her companions. This was not a happy night, despite their survival. There was uncertainty in the air, and despair. Then from behind her came a soft voice, Mother Giselle singing what sounded to Miria to be a Chantry hymn.  
     _"Shadows fall, and hope has fled... Steel your hearts, the Dawn will Come..."_  
     Her voice grew with each step until she stopped beside the small elf, who closed her eyes to listen. It surprised her when the Mother was joined by the bright voice of Leliana, and again when the soldiers and even Cullen picked up the song. Miria let the sound wash over her, simply listening, and when she opened her eyes her soldiers had arranged themselves in kneeling positions before her. She felt the flush in the tips of her ears, and was glad to feel a small tug at her sleeve.  
    "A word?"  
  
     "It has been a long time since the Shemlen have honored one of us like this... are you not worried it won't last?"  
    Miria frowned, "You should have more faith in them. They trust me."  
    The shrug Solas gave in response was disconcerting, but he continued. "Do you think they'll still follow when the find out the orb carried by Corypheus is Elvhen? That it's an artifact of our own people?"  
    "I do."  
    "Then we need to recover it."  
    "What do we need to do?"  
  
                           
  
    Miria plopped herself next to the fire, her ration of bread and cheese in hand and a flask of water at her side. She was staring blankly into the flames when she felt someone draw near, felt him lower himself beside her. She knew it was Cullen without looking; he smelled of Lyrium, a faintly metallic scent, as well as leather and blade oils. For several moments they ate in silence.  
    "Solas and you were speaking... was it important?"  
    "Yes... he believes the artifact Corypheus carries is Elvhen in nature. He's concerned it will shake the faith of the Inquisition."  
    Cullen sighed. "We do not blindly follow you, surely he knows that. And it hardly matters if it's Elvhen or not... he needs to be stopped. We should probably find somewhere to rebuild first. This is fine temporarily, but the cold will destroy our numbers and it's hardly defensible."  
    The elf scratched anxiously behind her ear, "He told me of a place. A days walk, if we can make it over the mountains. It would be perfect. You will have to trust me though."  
    She glanced at him for the first time, her bright green eyes locking to his. Pleading.  
    "I trust you." Cullen said softly. "How are you feeling?"  
    "Tired. But well enough. Grateful we were able to save so many."  
    Miria watched Cullen's half smile, watched as he turned back to eating. Her eyes traced the lines of his face, the scar above his lip. His stubble was thicker than usual, his eyes tired. When he caught her looking she flushed brilliant red and looked away, a fact that made him blush just as brightly. If Miria had ever thought herself crazy, now was it. An ex-templar? The Commander of the Inquisition? Beside the fact that Cullen was known to be a very serious man and Lavellan had a tendency toward mischief...  
    But there was something about his half smile... Something about the fact that he was always polite to her, always kind... the light that shone in his eyes when she came around. As she said though... crazy.  
    "...tomorrow and get to this place. I hope you know where it is?" Cullen had been speaking. Miria shook herself slightly.      
    "What was that? I'm sorry I blanked out."  
    The Commander shot her another half smile and Miria flushed again. "I said we can pack our things tomorrow and get to this place. Do you know where it is?"  
    "I don't, not completely, but Solas does. We should let everyone know we're leaving at first light."  
    Cullen nodded his agreement and stood, helping Miria to her feet. Nodding his head slightly, he went to the other advisors and she herself went to turn in for the night. Tomorrow... tomorrow would be a long day.


End file.
